


Wizard Love

by pearlcaddy



Series: The Wizarding World of Food Service [1]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Food Service, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Wizarding World Theme Park, Banter is My Love Language so It's Jukebox's Too, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Living!Phantoms AU, Mention of Nosebleeds, Mention of Panic Attacks, Minor Alex Mercer/Willie, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, but mostly just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlcaddy/pseuds/pearlcaddy
Summary: Julie didn’t expect to fall for a guy because of how he pours Butterbeer. But then, she’s never worked food service at the Wizarding World theme park before.Living!Phantoms Wizarding World Theme Park Workers AU“Sorry, you were in the supply closet together for an entire eight-hour shift, and you didn’t make out even a little? I can’t begin to express how much you disappoint me.”
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters, Flynn & Julie Molina, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Series: The Wizarding World of Food Service [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013403
Comments: 337
Kudos: 728





	Wizard Love

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Wizard Love” by Meekakitty and heyhihello
> 
> I’ve been writing all angsty multi-chapter fics, and I wanted to try my hand at a fluffy oneshot and apparently this is the result. Someday I will learn to be concise, but honestly probably I won’t.
> 
> For reference, [these](https://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2016/04/06/15/32E7A2C000000578-3526015-image-a-4_1459953487682.jpg) are the carts uniforms (usually worn without the vests) and [this](http://happilycandied.com/wp-content/uploads/3broom_900_zps210895d8-682x1024.jpg) is the Three Brooms uniform.
> 
> The shift times all end at six minutes past the half hour because we got exactly 24 minutes of paid “walking time” at the end of our shifts to go back through wardrobe and leave the park. Did I need to include that detail in this oneshot? Absolutely not. But that’s the kind of specificity and realism you can expect from this absolutely nonsense AU.

#### Shift Assignment:  
6.30-14.06 | BUTTERBEER 1

“First opening shift?”

Julie is stumbling across the cobblestones of Hogsmeade, definitely not awake enough to interact with anyone because it’s 6:fucking30, and she’s already been up for two hours so that she could drive to Universal Studios, walk all the way to the employee entrance from the garage, check out her costume from wardrobe, and get dressed. And she’s not even clocked in yet.

But she looks over to see that the question has come from an obscenely cute guy who is currently grinning at her, so she tries to make her brain boot up.

“First shift, period.” She’d been hired a couple months ago, but aside from a couple training shifts, she hadn’t been put on the schedule until today. “Am I wearing the right thing?” she asks, gesturing down at her yellow blouse and tartan pants. “My shift assignment said Butterbeer, and I honestly couldn’t remember which outfit goes with which.”

He nods. “Yeah, the blouse is for any of the Potter carts. If you get a Three Brooms shift, it’s the grey button-up and the black vest.” She nods, taking mental note of the shorthands “Potter” and “Three Brooms” because she wants to sound like one of the cool kids. She tries to think of something witty or fun to say… but it’s 6:30 and she is _not_ a morning person and she’s just going to have to accept that she’s not going to make a good first impression here. Or maybe any impression at all.

Feeling a bit like a lost puppy, she follows him to a small office hidden behind the Hog’s Head. The room is filled with extra slushie machines, already enthusiastically churning frozen Butterbeer like it’s not way too early for them all to be here.

They clock in, and as he tugs his brown corduroy witch’s hat onto his head, he asks, “You want coffee?” She nods, grateful. “Cream, sugar?”

“Both, please.”

He grins and bounces out the door.

She rests nervously on a stool. The sound from the Butterbeer machines is loud and persistent and overpowering, and she feels tiny and unsure by contrast. Not an unusual feeling for her lately. She only moved to LA two months ago, and she’s still completely overwhelmed by the city. On the opposite side of the country from her family for the first time in her life, totally apart from all her friends from high school and college, she feels alone and small in a way she never has before.

Back in upstate New York, even at a prestigious music school like Eastman where she was surrounded by talented musicians, she’d felt like she was special, or at least like she had direction and purpose and a path forward for her to make her mark as a musician. LA makes her feel like just one more tiny, desperate dot in a sea of people who are all trying to make it with just as much fervor as her.

It doesn’t help that, as soon as she got to LA, she bombed an audition for the Wizarding World’s a cappella Frog Choir and had been gently but firmly told to apply to the food service department instead. Arrogantly, she’d assumed, “Okay, food service, that’ll be easy enough.” And then had promptly done so poorly on her training shifts that she still feels embarrassed when she remembers all the fumbled mistakes she’d made. Can’t sing right. Can’t wipe tables right. Can’t even pour Butterbeer right.

She needs a job. But god, she’s going to fuck this up.

A woman in a carts uniform marches into the office and nods at her.

“You must be Julie.”

“How’d you know?”

“Name tag.”

Oh. Right. Of course. She reads the woman’s name tag in return. Lessa.

Cute Guy slips in and passes Julie a coffee with a smile.

“Oh good,” Lessa smiles. “You’ve met Luke. You’ll be on Butterbeer 1 today,” she tells him. “I want you to train her.” She turns to Julie. “Normally, we only have one person open each side of the Butterbeer carts, but I want you to get some experience under your belt before the day really gets going.” She looks at Luke. “We’re anticipating 20k today.”

He makes a face. “On a Wednesday in April? Don’t people have places to be?”

“Yes,” Lessa answers through gritted teeth. “Here. Spending their lovely money in this park and keeping us all employed.” She looks to Julie. “Luke’s one of our best, in spite of himself. You’re in good hands. Good luck.”

Luke nods for Julie to follow him but, as they reach the door of the office, Lessa calls out in that same firm voice again. “And Luke. Stop yelling at guests about J. K. Rowling. The Warner Bros. reps don’t like it when you insult her.”

Luke wrinkles up his nose like he smells something nasty. “What am I supposed to do when they bring her up?”

“Pretend you’ve never heard of her like a good little wizard. You live in the Wizarding World. The books do not exist.”

Once Lessa’s back is turned, Luke pouts defiantly. The kind of pout that suggests that he’s 100% going to continue to yell at the guests about J. K. Rowling.

Julie grins approvingly at him. He seems like good people.

The first hour and a half is fairly boring—mostly Luke pointing out where cups and straws are stored, and stocking their side of Butterbeer 1, which turns out to be the big Butterbeer cart in front of the ~~Three Broomsticks restaurant~~ Three Brooms.

Luke has her pour a cup of each of the two types of Butterbeer—the cold, bubbly one and the frozen, ice-blended one. Ostensibly, it’s to test that she remembers how to pour them, but from the way he immediately snags the frozen and takes a deep sip, she suspects ulterior motives.

The park opens to little fanfare—8 am on a Wednesday doesn’t seem to be a major crowd-drawing time, so she figures there’s time for her to try to make a slightly better impression and learn some stuff.

Unfortunately, she chooses to open the conversation with “Got any hot Butterbeer tips for me?”, so the _USS Good First Impressions_ has probably sailed.

But he shrugs, unfazed. “Butterbeer carts are pretty simple. Most of it’s a script. So get prepared to memorize and hate the script.”

“What’s the script?” she asks.

“‘Would you like your Butterbeer cold or frozen?’ ‘What’s the difference?’ ‘The cold is bubbly and the frozen is ice-blended.’ You’re gonna have that conversation hundreds of times a day, and it’s gonna lose all meaning.” He huffs a laugh at himself. “Last week, I ran into a dude I went to high school with and he asked how I was doing, and I genuinely answered ‘cold or frozen?’ The worst part is it kinda felt like a valid answer.” She raises an eyebrow. “Like I said, loses all meaning.”

"Why not change up the script sometimes? Like, frozen or cold?”

She thinks she’s said something… okay, not clever, but at least not embarrassing, but he looks at her like she just tried to convince him that the alphabet’s in the wrong order. “… no. It’s cold or frozen, not frozen or cold. Frozen or cold just sounds weird.”

She eyes the Three Brooms in front of them. She remembers the frantic shifts she worked there, desperately bussing tables and trying to pour drinks. Hundreds of employees and guests had desperately needed her to get her act together, and she’d failed so badly. Two months later, she knows even less than she did then and she’s kinda terrified for her first Three Brooms shift. He follows her line of sight and nudges her foot with his. “You okay?”

Don’t let him know you’ve already tied your sense of self-worth to your ability to do this job. “Just nervous I’ve forgotten everything since training.”

“You remember all the positions?”

“I think there was something called ‘pulse?’”

He laughs and nods. “You want a refresher?”

“Literally anything you could tell me would be great.”

“Okay, so…” His voice trails off as he watches a young boy in Gryffindor robes wave an interactive wand at a large Chocolate Frog box in the window of Honeydukes.

Whatever is meant to be happening isn’t happening and the boy turns his head to his dad with an irritated groan. Julie remembers seeing Ollivanders employees stationed at the spell spots to coach people through casting spells, but apparently they’re not on shift yet.

Luke holds up a finger to her. “Hold up, one sec.”

He bounces over to the dad and the boy. He addresses the dad first, checking that it’s okay for him to approach. “This one’s a bit tricky—do you want a hint?”

The dad nods, grateful, and Luke crouches down next to the kid. “Okay, so you have to start with your wand pointing at that bottom corner on the left, then point all the way up to the top of the box, and then finish down in that right corner. Make sense?”

The boy nods, eager, and quickly dashes off the spell, yelling “ _Revelio!_ ” The box doesn’t open.

“That was really good. Just try it a bit slower this time.”

The boy tries it again, yelling the spell once more, and this time the box opens slowly, revealing a giant Chocolate Frog. He starts jumping up and down, triumphantly telling his dad, “I did it! I did it!”

“Put it here!” Luke offers his hand and gives the boy a high five as he stands up. “You’ll be getting that Hogwarts letter any day now.”

The dad shoots him a grateful look and mouths “thanks.”

Luke nods, and bounces back to Julie. “Where were we?” he asks.

It takes her a moment to remember because she feels like her brain’s just been melted. She’s too tired for even the most mundane interaction, let alone watching a cute guy teach a child to do magic. “Um… positions in the Three Brooms.”

“Right.”

He points to the employee standing out in front of the Three Brooms with a bunch of menus in her hands.

“Greeters. Don’t get stuck on greeter.”

“Why?”

“Cause when things are slow, greeters are basically glorified menu boards. And when things are busy, you have to tell a bunch of hangry people that they have to wait for an hour before they can even get in line inside Three Brooms.”

“Okay, so greeter is either boring or stressful. What’s next?”

Luke digs in his apron pocket and pulls out a small diagram of the Three Brooms. He traces his finger from the entrance of the restaurant through the lines that she knows indicate the queue inside. His finger stops at a spot just before the registers.

“Pulse. Don’t get stuck on pulse. Pulse is the worst job in there.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s super important, it’s hard to do right, and it’s thankless. Pulse decides when guests get out of the line and go to a register to place an order. They’re in charge of making sure this whole area here”—he gestures to the section with the registers and the order pick up windows—“doesn’t get too crowded. So, they have to be careful about where they send people, keep an eye out for potential bottlenecks. If drinks window 1 isn’t getting orders out quickly, then even if there’s no line at register 1, you gotta send guests to another register. And a really good pulse pays attention to how crowded the restaurant is. If there aren’t places for people to sit, don’t send new guests to registers. We don’t want them standing around with trays of food they can’t eat. Basically, you’re setting the tempo for the whole restaurant. Hence, pulse.”

“That… sounds like a lot.” Specifically, it sounds like a lot of stuff that Julie would fuck up.

“It is. Very few people are good at pulse.”

She eyes him. He seems so confident and sure of himself. She has a hard time imagining him being bad at something. “Are you one of those people?”

“Fuck no. I don’t have patience for that.” She laughs, enjoying his honesty. “My friend Reggie, though, he’s the pulse god. Which is a shame, cause they always stick him on pulse and we never get to hang out on shift.” He meets her gaze and flashes a grin. “So if you ever get put on pulse, don’t do too good a job, cause we’ll never see you again.”

The cute guy wants to work with her. Be cool. Definitely do not giggle.

She giggles.

Seriously?

“What’s after pulse?”

“Register. Don’t get stuck on register.”

“If that’s your advice for every position, I’m going to have a hard time here.”

He laughs. “Nah, register’s fine. Lot of guest interaction, if you’re into that? But, if your till is off at the end of your shift, you get disciplinary points. Get enough points, you get fired. And it’s easy to rack up points doing register at Three Brooms.”

Privately, she feels that register is probably worse than pulse because she really needs to not get fired. That’s her main goal here—do not get fired from selling Butterbeer.

“What’s next?”

“Servery.” He says “servery” like it's the name of a beloved pet.

“From your tone, I’m guessing I want to get stuck on servery?”

A grin lights up his face. “Servery’s where it’s at. Pouring drinks, assembling trays of food, sending out orders to guests. It’s chaos. It’s the fucking best.”

“You like chaos?”

He laughs, sticking his tongue out a bit in his delight. “There is nothing like the high of working servery. Honestly, it’s embarrassing how good it feels. Really good servery shift is better than…” As a group of children pass by, his voice trails off.

“Casting spells?” she suggests a euphemism.

He grins at her. It’s a really good grin, the kind that makes you feel like you’re the first person to be on the receiving end of it. “Yeah, way better than casting spells.”

Drawing his finger past the servery, he points to a spot just before the seating section of the restaurant. “Fifth position is control. Control seats people once they’ve got their food.”

She studies his face. “Don’t get stuck on control?”

“It’s like pulse. You’re an island unto yourself.” He waves his finger over the seating area. “And then bussing. Throwing out people’s plates, cleaning tables. Lot of walking around. Bussing’s good, especially if you need a break from people. There’s a couple of tasks you can do where people don’t really bother you.”

He tucks the diagram back in his pocket. “And that’s Three Brooms.”

“What about out here?”

“Uh, on the Butterbeer carts, there’s usually someone on register and someone pouring drinks. When we get super busy, someone does line control—taking orders in advance so we can have drinks ready by the time they get to the register. And there’s a couple non-Butterbeer snack and drink carts, but I don’t know what happens at them because I avoid working them cause they suck.”

This time, she gets the pattern and says it with him. “Try not to get stuck on them.” 

He laughs and ducks his head, looking up at her through his eyelashes which is honestly super unfair because, look, she’s only a mortal human and she is still barely awake. “That all make sense?” he asks.

“Yeah, thanks. That was really helpful. But also I feel like I’ve probably forgotten most of what you just said.”

He laughs again. “Just remember: servery, bussing, Butterbeer.”

“And don’t get stuck on pulse.”

“Exactly. Fast learner.” He quirks his head at her. “Ravenclaw?”

“That obvious?”

“Yep.”

“What about you? Gryffindor…?”

He shakes his head, grinning. “Nope. Get to know me, try again later.” The look on his face is inviting, like he wants her to.

Okay, good. At least she’s made one potential friend in LA. Only took her two damn months.

“Is there anything else I should know?”

“Just standard food service stuff. Learn who the best people are. Good people are either fun to be on shift with or good at their jobs. Great people are both. And know your gods.”

“The Wizarding World has deities?”

“The people who are the best at each position. You walk into Three Brooms and see Reg is on pulse and Alex is on control, you’re in for a good fucking shift, dude.” His grin seeps into his voice, gentle and fond, and she gets the sense that the people who work here are kind of family. The part of her that feels so very alone in this massive, sprawling city aches to be included in that.

“Is there a hierarchy of gods? Like, a top god? A Zeus?”

There’s a pleased grin on his face, like a teacher who’s just tricked a student into asking exactly the question he wants to answer. “Expo. If you’re an expo god, you’re a god amongst food service Potter gods.”

Leaning casually on the Butterbeer cart, all confident and beaming and sure of himself, she suspects he’s probably an expo god.

“What’s expo?”

“It’s part of servery. Assembling the trays of food.” She waits for a longer description, but that’s all he says. 

“That doesn’t sound as hard as pulse.”

“Wait until you work your first lunch shift in servery.”

He’s injected a casual, encouraging tone into everything else he’s said, but this he says ominously, like he thinks she should know how scary servery can be at lunchtime. 

As it turns out, he’s really not wrong.

#### 11.00-16.36 | THREE BROOMS

Servery, as she quickly learns, is a narrow corridor of chaos. On one side, facing out at the guests, is a line of four pick up windows, one window for every two registers. Each window has a row of drink dispensers and Butterbeer machines. On the other side of the corridor are the two expo stations: long counters in front of two large open windows facing into the kitchen. The cooks put the hot food on the shelves in the window and cold food in the pass-through fridge on the side of the station. People working expo use order slips to assemble the trays of food and add garnishes and sauces. The trays then get passed on to the right pick up window so people assigned to drinks can add drinks, call out orders for pick up, and direct guests to control.

In theory, expo should be fairly simple. But Julie notices that only the most experienced people get put on expo, and that shift leads will pull those people off of other positions to do expo rather than put an inexperienced person on it.

Expo people seem to have an encyclopedic knowledge of the entire menu, knowing without checking which plates get a side salad and which garnishes and dressings go with which meal. They also seem to have their entire workstation memorized: she watches one expo wizard open the fridge with the salad dressings and retrieve four different types of dressing without once taking his eyes off of the ticket dispenser.

So even without Luke’s warning, she would probably be intimidated by expo.

But Julie feels a bit silly when she realizes that, actually, all of servery is terrifying at lunchtime.

She’d assumed drinks would be easy because, like, it’s a row of spigots and you pour various liquids into cups. How hard can it be? The ticket dispenser pops out a slip with an order number and a list of drinks. You make the drinks, you put them on a tray with the food. Easy peasey.

And it is. Until the lunch rush hits.

Carrie is on expo. Julie already thought Carrie was a bit terrifying, but Carrie on expo is next level. She throws food together on trays so quickly that they become a blur, and Julie feels like the drinks ticket for each order has hardly appeared at her station before Carrie is shoving the corresponding food tray into her hands.

The trays of food accumulate quickly, filling all available space on the drinks counter, and Julie is desperately trying to pour drinks quickly enough to catch up. Her voice becomes more and more frantic as she calls out orders, practically begging guests to come pick up their trays. They’re so backed up that food trays are balancing precariously on the ice box and it seems like it’s just a matter of time before an accident happens. A tray is going to fall and everything’s going to be ruined and Julie is going to get fired. Her shift lead is hovering at the end of the counter, right nearby, but she hasn’t intervened and doesn’t even seem that phased. A voice in Julie’s head tries to point out that that means she’s probably doing okay, but her heart absolutely will not allow for that possibility. She is fucking up, she is fucking up badly, and she can feel her breath picking up speed and hitching randomly, not a panic attack yet, but the prelude to a panic attack.

Carrie is getting more and more annoyed as the entire expo counter fills with trays she can’t send out. “Oh my god, will you hurry the fuck up? I’ve got tickets piling up.”

Julie’s a twenty-one-year-old woman, and she can feel the hot burn in her eyes that means she’s probably about to cry at work. She’s desperately trying to fill an order for ten pumpkin juices (which, seriously, ten??) when—

“Luke, about time you showed up.” The shift lead sounds pleased.

Julie’s head snaps up. Luke hovers by the lead at the end of the counter and Julie immediately wants to fall through the floor. It’s not bad enough that she’s about to cry at work and that she’s messing up _pouring drinks_ so badly that she may get fired—Luke has to be there to witness it?

“Hey, Mrs. Harrison.”

The lead rolls her eyes. “I have a first name.”

“Pretty sure adults who are friends with my parents aren’t allowed to have first names." Harrison shakes her head at him, but there’s an affectionate exasperation to it, like he’s her favorite misbehaving son. “Where do you want me?” he asks.

“Servery or bussing. You pick.”

Luke looks up to survey the servery and makes eye contact with Julie. His face immediately wrinkles in concern. Cool, so it’s super obvious that she’s about to cry. What a great day this is.

“New girl, seriously! Any time this century!” Carrie snaps.

Luke’s jaw tenses. “Can I expo?”

He tilts his head in Carrie's direction. Harrison raises an eyebrow, but nods. “Carrie, take your 10.”

“Fucking finally.” Carrie tosses the tray into Luke’s hands with a scoff. “Good luck.” She storms off.

Luke slips into the expo spot, but the whole counter is full of trays, so there’s nowhere for him to even put the tray in his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Julie apologizes, as she adds the tenth pumpkin juice to the tray. “Order for Marcus!” she calls out.

“No worries,” he replies mildly. He waits, holding the tray, while she clears out the backlog at her window, and only then does he pass her the tray in his hands. He smiles calmly, catching her eyes for a moment. “We’re in no rush. Just take it one at a time.”

Luke on expo is an entirely different experience from Carrie on expo. He doesn’t seem phased by the giant backlog of order tickets, even though they’re popping out fast enough that they’re starting to encroach on the window to the kitchen. Whenever the expo counter gets filled with food trays with nowhere for them to go, he steps over to the drinks window and helps call out orders to get them cleared so she can focus on pouring drinks. He never snaps, and whenever she apologizes for the backlog, he just smiles and reminds her, “We’re in no rush.”

Somehow—even though they very clearly should be in a rush because _look at all these damn tickets_ —his calm attitude works. Carrie’s franticness put Julie on edge, had her fumbling and making simple mistakes and overthinking everything. Luke’s casualness rubs off on her, like they’re gonna ride out a vicious storm purely by pretending it doesn’t bother them. She starts to take deeper breaths, and tries not to look at the long string of drink tickets popping out of the dispenser, and slowly, slowly, she feels like they start to catch up and hours pass and the counter is finally empty.

“Julie, take your lunch. Luke, take your first 10!” Harrison calls.

They peel away from the chaos and slip out of the servery. He pauses as she grabs a plate of food from the kitchen, and she smiles to herself as she realizes that he’s planning to spend his break with her.

When they reach the break area out back, he collapses into the chair across from her.

“Sorry I kept messing up,” she says yet again. Look, she’s read all the literature about how women apologize too much, and she’s really sorry but she doesn’t seem to be getting any better at not apologizing.

“Seriously, stop apologizing. You rocked it.” She raises an eyebrow, but then he says the last thing she was expecting. “Nick was fucking up.”

“Nick?” Nick wasn’t even in servery.

“He was on pulse. He was sending too many people to registers 7 and 8, so you were getting backed up at the drinks window.” She takes a moment to marvel at how he managed to clock all that while his back was turned. “Also, Carrie’s not great on expo.”

“But she’s so fast.”

“Expo’s not just about assembling trays quickly. You gotta know what’s going on at all your windows, and you gotta be patient. If all the counter tops are filled, then you don’t assemble more trays. Good expo takes care of their whole side of the servery. The frontman in a band, not a soloist. People who are expo gods understand that.”

It’s weirdly hypnotic, listening to him theorize about expo. And the cute little grin at the corner of his mouth confirms for her that, yeah:

“You’re an expo god.”

He unleashes a cocky smirk that, honestly, after seeing him on expo, she thinks he deserves. “Well, I’m a frontman in a band, so I got experience.” 

“You’re in a band?”

“Sunset Curve.”

A guy in a carts uniform appears, seemingly out of nowhere, and drapes his arm around Luke’s shoulder. “Tell your friends!”

“Reggie’s also in the band.”

“The pulse god?” she checks with Luke. He grins at her, like he’s impressed with her memory. At least she’s doing something right.

Reggie grins as he collapses in the seat next to Luke. “Aww, Luke, you talk about me?” He glances at her. “You must be Julie.” She assumes he says “must” because of her nametag, but Luke’s cheeks turn slightly pink.

She doesn’t get time to dwell, because Luke taps Reggie on the arm. “Dude, I’m so pissed you’re on carts today. Nick’s killing us out there.”

Reggie lets out a melodramatic gasp and clutches his chest. “Nick’s on pulse? _My_ pulse?”

Julie laughs. “So you _like_ pulse?”

“Has Luke been bad-mouthing it again?”

Unapologetic, Luke shrugs. “Pulse sucks. I’m speaking objectively.”

“You think it sucks because you can’t handle it.”

A guy in a Three Brooms uniform collapses in the seat next to Julie. “Control is what sucks.”

Julie clocks the newcomer’s nametag. Alex. She checks with Luke, confused. “Alex, the control god?”

Luke grins again. “Yeah. But when you work control, you can’t see people working on certain stations.” He waggles his eyebrows at Alex, who tosses a napkin at him.

“ _Silencio_.” There’s a telltale flush on Alex’s face.

“It’s pulse. He can’t see pulse,” Reggie pipes up, cupping his face angelically.

“Reg, no one cares about pulse,” Luke insists.

Very innocently, Julie asks, “Didn’t you say pulse was 'super important?'”

Reggie shoots a finger gun her way. “I like her. We’re keeping her.”

Luke sticks his tongue out at her. “Traitor.” Then he nods to Alex. “He has a crush on a register god.”

“I do not have a crush,” Alex hisses. “In fact, I’ve never had a crush, I’ve never even heard of crushes, I don’t know what feelings are, and I’m leaving.” He doesn’t get up. “Emotionally, I’m leaving. Physically, this shift has exhausted me and I’m sitting for my full ten.”

“Bro, you could just ask to be on register,” Luke points out. “Harrison would definitely move you. She ships you and Willie.”

“Okay, 1) I don’t think I want to be shipped by my lead, and 2) Register is terrifying and it’s not worth it.” Alex groans and looks at the sky. “Okay, maybe it’s worth it. Ugh, no, it isn’t. Well, maybe. Hmm, no.”

“They’re truly star-crossed,” Reggie stage-whispers to Julie. She giggles.

Luke checks his phone and makes a face, but reluctantly gets to his feet. Then he nods to Julie. “See you back out there?”

She nods.

“And seriously, first time in servery? You were killing it. Don’t let Carrie get you down.” He grins encouragingly at her and—

Ugh, she knew she was going to have a slight work crush on this guy as soon as… well, as soon as she saw his face, but definitely as soon as he tutored the kid on the spell spot. But this… this is gonna be A Thing now, isn’t it?

Definitely at least a full-fledged work crush.

“Thanks,” she smiles.

As Luke heads back into the kitchen, she sees Alex and Reggie glance at one another, and then at her. “You must be Julie,” Alex says. He doesn’t look at her nametag.

#### 10.00-17.36 | BUTTERBEER 2

Annoyingly, Julie doesn’t tend to get assigned to the same positions as Luke, Reggie, Alex, or even Flynn, who she met during training. Flynn’s carved out a niche for herself working the Magic Neep snack cart (“No one else loves this cart, so I’m going to love it into greatness!”) and Luke, Reggie, and Alex tend to get assigned to what Julie quickly realizes are the high-status positions. When they’re in the Three Brooms, if Alex and Reggie aren’t on control or pulse, they’re usually in servery, especially expo. When they’re on carts, they’re at Butterbeer 1. As the first cart that guests encounter when they enter Hogsmeade, it gets the most foot traffic, so the people who get assigned there tend to be the Butterbeer gods.

Julie spends a lot of time at Butterbeer 2, which is tucked between Hogsmeade’s High Street and the Hogwarts castle. The main feature of Butterbeer 2 is that it sits directly across from the performance stage, so even though she’s only worked at Potter for three weeks, Julie already has the Triwizard Spirit Rally and the Frog Choir performances basically memorized because they happen approximately 12,000 times a day about a hundred feet away.

Honestly, she doesn’t mind Butterbeer 2—she gathers that being assigned there means that she shows promise but isn’t in the big leagues yet. But she does wish that she got to work more shifts with the people who have been the nicest to her so far.

And, okay, especially with Luke. She’s not opposed to eye candy on a shift.

But it’s been a couple weeks since she’s worked with him, so she’s really not prepared to round the wall at the start of her shift and see him on register. He’s handing a frozen Butterbeer to a customer when he catches sight of her and his face lights up.

When she reaches the cart, he holds up a triumphant elbow. “Fuck yeah,” he says, as they bump elbows in a food service high-five.

“What?” She can’t help but grin at his enthusiasm.

“I saw Carrie coming in dressed for carts and I really didn’t want to work with her. Also, we don’t work together enough.”

She tries to look like she hasn’t noticed, but she’s not sure she succeeds because there are butterflies in her stomach that she thought had died back in high school.

It just gets worse the longer their shift goes on, because he seems to have been strategically designed to torture her. When a little girl walks up clutching a new wand, he immediately identifies it as Luna Lovegood’s and asks if she’s seen any Nargles. And when one kid points his wand at his brother and yells “Avada Kedavra!” Luke yells back “Don’t make me get the Aurors!”

But the worst is when the Frog Choir comes out to perform. On instinct, she begins to bob up and down and sing the beginning of the a cappella medley along with the choir. A moment later, it occurs to her that that’s maybe a very embarrassing thing to do, but before she can regret it, she realizes that he’s doing the exact same thing. He grins. “I hear this”—he clearly wants to say shit—“stuff in my sleep.”

“Is it _good_ , or are we just a captive audience?” she asks.

“I don’t even know anymore.”

When the choir gets to the part of the medley with “Do The Hippogriff,” Luke begins to rock out, strumming the opening on air guitar. She glances at his fingers… and realizes that he’s not just making random shapes mid-air.

“Those are actual chords. … do you _know_ how to play this on guitar?”

Dodging the question, he begins to sing along. “ _Runnin' like a hairy troll, learnin' to rock and roll_.”

She sings back. “ _Spinnin' 'round like a crazy elf, dancin' by himself_.”

The giant grin on his face seems to prevent him from singing anymore. “Honestly, I’m starting to worry that I genuinely like this song,” he confesses.

But the worst part is when the Frog Choir finishes performing, and she sings along to their exit music, which is the part of the medley that sits most comfortably in her vocal range. He flashes her a grin.

“There’s that voice.”

“What?”

He flushes. “Uh, before your first shift, I heard you singing in the changing room. Not in a creepy way, they just hadn’t turned the radio on in wardrobe yet and the sound carries when it’s quiet.” His eyes dart to her, like he’s worried she’s going to be offended. She just smiles at him, easy, and hits the high note. His face glows with awe. “Merlin’s beard, you’re good.”

“ _Merlin’s beard?_ ”

“I’m being appropriate. This is a family-friendly park.”

She indicates herself. “Singer-songwriter.”

“We should jam some time.”

She wishes she could take him up on it—she likes the idea of seeing him outside of work, of testing whether this is one of those work crushes that vanishes as soon as you’re out in the real world among other people. But she hasn’t felt artistically motivated since… well, her disastrous Frog Choir audition, and she’s starting to feel like a fraud every time she describes herself as a singer. Not a conversation she wants to get into with him, especially when he’s in an actual band actively performing every night when he’s not on shift. So she deflects. “You exist outside the Wizarding World? I don’t even think I’d recognize you without the hat.”

“My head actually just cuts off here.” He indicates the hat line with a grin. Then he eyes her face. “I feel like you—” but then a guest steps forward to order and he turns away.

#### 12.30-20.06 | THREE BROOMS

She’s been avoiding expo like the plague. Not that any of their leads have been desperately trying to put her on it or anything, but the food service churn rolls and people have left and Harrison is asking Luke to train new people on expo in the lull between lunch and dinner, and he points to Julie.

“Julie would probably kill on expo.”

She has no idea what he’s basing that on—her consistent mediocrity? She shakes her head frantically, but Harrison doesn’t accept head gestures as a valid reason to not do work, so Julie finds herself on the wrong side of servery listening to Luke explain the intricacies of expo.

Up close, expo is even more terrifying than it seemed from afar.

It’s not just that you need to know the entire menu and assemble the trays quickly. You need to know how long it takes the kitchen to make the different plates, so that you’re not putting food onto trays until the whole order is ready to go. You need to be in constant communication with the kitchen to check on the status of food, and you need to keep an eye on what windows the orders are going to—if one window is slammed, switch to making the orders for the other window.

She’s very tempted to just sprint out of the Three Brooms, because she feels like that might be more helpful than her trying to expo. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to do all that stuff at once.”

But he smiles, encouraging. “I promise it’s one of those things that gets easier as soon as you actually do it.”

And when they’re in the lull between meals, it really doesn’t seem that bad, especially with Reggie and Alex working drinks. The three guys have an easy chemistry that translates well to working together, and they’ve been on shift together enough to have a shorthand and to anticipate each other’s needs.

But as dinner approaches and the number of meal tickets starts to pick up, Julie eyes the expo line nervously.

“Do you want to switch with Reggie?” Harrison asks. Not like she’s pushing her out, but asking if she wants to try.

Julie’s about to say yes, when Luke shakes his head at her gently. “You’re doing really well. Give it a shot.”

“I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Expo’s not a thing you feel ready to do. It’s a thing you do, and then realize you were ready for.” There’s probably an alternate universe where Luke is a motivational speaker, because even though she knows she can’t do this, his tone and words are absolutely convinced that she can, and she almost feels swayed by his faith in her. He smiles invitingly. “Come on. I wouldn’t have recommended you for expo if I didn’t think you were gonna rock it.”

Alex and Reggie begin chanting, “Julie! Julie! Julie! Julie!” and Luke joins in, and guests are definitely looking at them and she should be embarrassed but her heart squeezes tightly because she feels like she’s maybe finally made friends in LA.

“Okay, okay, fine! But the instant I mess up, we’re switching,” she tells Reggie.

He grins. “Cool.” Then he stage-whispers to Alex, “I’m gonna be on drinks all night.”

Shockingly, he’s right.

Dinner at the Three Brooms never gets as chaotic as lunch, but the expo line still moves at a steady clip. But with Luke by her side, it’s easy because he’s a great expo partner. When a ticket pops up that requires salad dressings, she doesn’t even have to ask him to get dressings from his fridge. He slides them onto her trays almost before she’s read the ticket. She tries to mimic him—when she sees that he has an order with a side salad or a dessert, she gets it out from her fridge and tries to have it on his tray before he needs to ask. Very quickly, she gets into the groove—reading tickets, getting the cold food from her fridge, adding the hot food from the window, assembling bundles of watercress to garnish the plates, and passing the loaded trays off to the drinks windows.

And every time she anticipates Luke’s need for a salad or a dessert, he does a tiny, proud grin to himself.

There’s something weirdly addictive about the process, a pride that comes from being able to put the trays together quickly, and anticipating what everyone in the kitchen and the servery needs. The steady rate of new orders ensures that she keeps a constant flow of adrenaline in her bloodstream—they’re not rushed, but they need to keep up—and maintaining the perfect pace feels satisfying, like walking at just the right speed on a moving walkway so it feels like you’re flying forward.

When the dinner rush ends and Harrison dismisses them, Luke high-fives her and says, “See? Knew you’d kill it.”

Julie’s not inclined to toot her own horn, especially since moving to LA, but for a moment, she thinks he’s maybe not completely wrong.

* * *

As she dumps her dirty uniform down the laundry chute, she notices that her fingers are almost itching. Normally after a shift, she’s exhausted, but tonight she’s weirdly wired, like part of her body is still craving being on the expo line assembling trays.

“Julie!”

For a moment, she genuinely doesn’t recognize the three guys in front of her in their street clothes.

She’s always resented how cute Luke looks in his uniform, but now that she sees what he looks like with his full head and… holy shit, those are arms… she realizes that he too has been brought down by the witch’s hat.

There’s a devious grin on his face, like he knows how discombobulated she is. Triumphant, he points to the top of his head. “See? Hair.”

“You wear it well.” Immediately, she regrets saying it. What if he thinks she’s flirting?

But he eyes her and smiles in a way that feels much more clearly like flirting. “So do you.”

She highly doubts that—he looks clean and put-together, while she’s glistening with a sheen of sweat and her curls are already frizzy. Charitably, she looks like she took a shower, but everyone present knows that it’s actually sweat. 

But he’s smiling like she’s cute.

Before she can do something embarrassing like giggle, he nods to the escalator that leads to the employee exit. “You wanna come into the park with us? Reg got the code.”

“Code?”

“Ride operators have a passcode every day that lets you skip the line. Wanna ride FJ?” She’s worked at Potter long enough by now that she at least recognizes that shorthand—the main ride in Hogwarts, Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey. Maybe someday she’ll be one of the cool kids.

Reggie grins proudly. “I have a way with the ride ops.”

“Kayla,” Alex corrects him. “He has a way with one ride op.”

Reggie crosses his arms. “Hey, I’m the only one with a work crush who actually gets us any perks, so I think I’m winning.”

Luke rolls his eyes skyward, then shoots Julie a needling smile. “Come on, I’ll buy you a Butterbeer.” His eyes are… wow, he looks like an actual puppy. Trying not to seem too easily swayed, she raises a skeptical eyebrow. She knows what they earn, and how much a Butterbeer costs—she doubts he’s going to spend that many minutes on his feet just to buy her a drink they can get anytime. He concedes, “Okay, I’m gonna ask someone to give you a free Butterbeer.”

Alex and Reggie appear on either side of Luke, doing matching puppy dog pouts, and there’s no way she can say no to those three faces.

* * *

Luke practically skips all the way down CityWalk, the strip of shops and restaurants that lines the path from the employee entrance to the park entrance. She thinks maybe the skipping will slow down after they get their comp tickets and enter the park itself, but… nope. This guy cannot be stopped, and it almost feels like he’s skipping to send a middle finger to the very concept of having just worked an eight-hour shift.

“How is he not tired? Is that the expo buzz?” she asks his friends.

“He’s pretty much always like that,” Alex sighs, resigned. “But it’s definitely worse after expo.”

“He’s descended from the Energizer Bunny,” Reggie jokes.

“You get used to it.” Alex glances at her sideways, like he’s checking whether she wants to get used to it.

She’s saved from answering when Luke finally comes to a full, triumphant halt in the archway that marks the entrance to Hogsmeade. Alex and Reggie head straight in, but Julie pauses to take in the village. The evening sky basks the whole village in dark blue, and the stones of the buildings and cobbled streets, which sometimes look fake in the full light of day, look real and worn in the nighttime. For a moment, in spite of the warm LA spring air dancing on her arms, she genuinely feels like she’s stumbled into a rural Scottish village in the middle of winter. The Harry Potter soundtrack that plays on High Street washes over her, and she feels the same magic spark inside of her that she felt the first time she visited the park. Like her childhood is holding out a hand to her and inviting her home.

“I never get tired of this,” Luke whispers, mostly to himself.

She grins at his awed expression. It’s different coming in this way instead of through the employee entrance, where you’re desperately trying to shove your way through crowds in a semi-polite manner so you can clock in on time. As guests, they can actually soak in the magic.

Her chest aches.

“My mom would have loved this.” She doesn’t mean to say it aloud, and only realizes she has when he looks over. For a moment, she winces internally. She really doesn’t want him to ask about her use of the past tense or tell her that he’s sorry for her loss.

But he doesn’t do either, simply asking, “Was she a big Potter fan?”

Julie nods, refusing to take her eyes off of Hogsmeade, like she’s not revealing anything about herself if she doesn’t look at him. “She was sick for a while and didn’t have a lot of energy, so we read the books and watched the movies a lot.” And after her mother passed, on the days when Julie didn’t have the capacity to handle the depths of her own grief, she would bury herself back in those books, wrapping herself in Harry’s grief so she could process her own. The Wizarding World saved her when she was at her lowest and gave her some of her favorite memories with her mother, and she still hasn’t figured out how to reconcile her love for this fictional world with her hatred for its creator.

“Hurry up, guys!” Reggie calls impatiently from outside the Three Brooms.

They rush to catch up with the guys and slide into the restaurant, nodding at the greeters on their way in. There’s something weirdly exhilarating about coming in in street clothes and realizing that she recognizes everyone who’s still on shift. Almost like they’re all part of a secret club.

As they scurry past the registers, Mrs. Harrison raises an eyebrow at them from servery.

“Didn’t we just get rid of you?” she asks.

“We’re thirsty?” Luke grins, trying to be charming.

“Then walk yourself back over to the register and pay for something.”

Reggie rests his head in his hands, looking pitiful. “Help us, we’re poor.”

“For your favorite employees?” Alex tries.

She rolls her eyes, but her smile is fond. “What do you want?”

“Butterbeer.”

“Cold or frozen?” she asks.

A shit-eating grin spreads over Luke’s face, and Julie knows what he’s going to say the second before he says it. “What’s the difference?”

Everyone present flinches at the hated question. Deeply unimpressed, Harrison shakes her head. “None for you.” She looks to Julie. “What do you want, sweetie?”

“Cold,” she smiles. The fact that she was addressed first makes her feel like maybe she really will become part of the Potter family someday.

Luke gasps, affronted. “Cold?? The frozen is objectively better.”

“You’re objectively wrong,” Alex scoffs.

“Cold for life,” Reggie agrees.

Harrison calls to the guy on drinks. “Nick, can I get three colds?”

“What about me?” Luke asks.

“I’ll make your drink personally.” Harrison smiles dangerously as she fills a sample cup from one of the soda taps, then sets it in front of him.

Luke sips it, then makes a face. “Pumpkin juice?” Harrison nods, victorious. “Can I at least have the Butterbeer topping on it?”

“Dear lord, why?” Alex looks horrified and Reggie gags loudly. Harrison just shakes her head at them and strides away, done with their antics.

They grab their Butterbeers and return to the streets of Hogsmeade. As they pass the spell spot outside of Dogweed and Deathcap, Julie slows, watching a teenager dressed as McGonagall wave her wand and cause a flower to the bloom in the window. 

“You ever done the spell spots?” Luke asks. She shakes her head, so he reaches into his bag and tugs out an interactive wand. “You wanna?”

“You actually bought a wand?” She doesn’t know whether to be incredulous or just absolutely delighted.

He flushes. “Wasn’t gonna, but I did the Ollivanders experience and the wand chose me.” He darts his gaze up to her, defensive. “The wand chooses the wizard! I wasn’t gonna leave it behind.”

Julie wants to laugh at him, but he’s just so _earnest_. She takes the wand and passes him her Butterbeer to hold. “You can have some. Wand tax,” she smiles. He takes a grateful sip, washing the taste of the pumpkin juice out of his mouth.

She tries to follow the instructions on the medallion that marks the spell spot. It seems like it should be easy enough—just drawing the shape of a lowercase “h” in midair—but nothing happens.

He chuckles and steps in closer. “Try aiming the wand a bit higher?”

She tries. Still nothing.

“And go a bit slower?”

Nothing.

“Can I?” He holds his hand out to her. She nods.

He steps in next to her and wraps his hand around hers. Her whole hand tingles from the contact, hyperaware of how close he’s standing. He murmurs in her ear, “And unless you’ve mastered nonverbal magic, you have to say the spell.” The words are meant to be teasing, because the spell spots obviously work without the incantations, but his proximity and the gentle, hushed tone he speaks in makes them seem flirtatious. She shivers at his breath on her neck.

“ _Herbivicus_ ,” she whispers as he guides her hand. Honestly, he’s doing most of the work, because she definitely isn’t paying strict attention to her wand movements at this point.

The flower in the window starts to bloom and she grins.

It’s technology, not magic, and it was mostly Luke… but it’s still delightful.

She glances over to see him smiling softly at her. It’s a good thing that he has a thin Butterbeer mustache above his lip, because otherwise that smile would be a bit much for her to handle this close up. “Are you gonna tell me I’m going to Hogwarts now?” she asks, her voice hushed.

“Nah, you gotta slay all the spell spots first. And then come back and do this one yourself. Then I’ll write you a letter.” He speaks softly, like it’s a private conversation, and her gaze dips automatically to his lips. She can tell that he clocks the movement of her eyes, and for a moment, there’s a tension between them, like something might happen.

But they work together, and she’s like 80% convinced that she only has a crush on him because he’s nice to her and she’s lonely in a new city.

Okay, 70%.

So she whispers back, “You’ve got a Butterbeer mustache.”

His hand flies to his mouth and he wipes it away quickly before passing back her Butterbeer.

“See, you don’t get a mustache with the frozen ones,” he mumbles through an embarrassed chuckle.

“Then is it even really Butterbeer?” she teases.

“Seriously, guys, the park isn’t open all night!” Alex calls. 

They use the code to get through the FJ queue quickly (and yes, she does feel like a cool kid even though the code is “Xenophilius” and there’s barely a line anyways) and after the ride, they’re dumped into the sizable gift shop at the exit. At first, she’s embarrassed by the tug she feels to browse the merchandise, but Luke is already drifting around the shelves, and she can tell immediately that all the guys have favorite things they like to look at every time they come here. Luke groans longingly as he eyes the glassware.

She sidles up next to him. “I know consumerism and capitalism are destroying this planet, but also I want a pint glass with my house crest on it.”

“Right there with ya.” He shoots her a mischievous look. “You finally gonna guess my house?”

She glances at Alex, stalling. “What’s your house?”

“‘I’m afraid of ghosts. And sheets with holes in them. And regular sheets,’” he quips.

It takes her a moment to place the reference, but then she grins. “You’re a Hufflepuff.” She glances over at Reggie, who sends her an innocent smile. “… also a Hufflepuff.” Then her gaze returns to Luke. Her jaw drops a little as she puts it together. “Really? All three of you?”

“Yeah, we’re Hufflepuff AF,” Alex grins.

“Except I don’t really do the patience thing,” Luke admits.

“What? You mean people don’t fit neatly into one of four personality types?”

He laughs as they stroll out of the shop. “Here’s the thing, though. Houses are supposed to be about what you value, right? Not just what you are. If we look at who I am, then sure: Gryffindor, maybe even Slytherin, cause I’m all about diving in and trying to get shit done and realize my dreams. But in terms of what I value? Fairness, putting in the work, taking care of people.”

“Not bravery?”

“I’m not… okay, this is probably an asshole thing to say, but most stuff doesn’t really scare me? Bravery’s about overcoming fear, and I don’t ever do that. I just do shit, and often don’t realize until afterwards how hard it was gonna be or what a mistake it was.” She bursts out laughing, and his cheeks flush. “What?”

“Nothing, I just… I’ve been thinking of you as this hypercompetent person, but—”

Reggie starts giggling and Alex’s jaw drops. “HOW.”

“Cause he’s… good on expo?”

Reggie and Alex dissolve into laughter. Luke licks both his pointer fingers and sticks them into his friend’s ears.

She rolls her eyes at him fondly. “You’re kind of a disaster, aren’t you? Like, you seem like a Gryffindor, but it’s because you’re a Disaster Hufflepuff.”

He laughs. “Yeah, so, do you know Sorting Hat Chats?”

“The tumblr where you get a Primary house and a Secondary house?”

He nods and points to himself. “Hufflepuff Primary, Gryffindor Secondary.”

She grins, partly because it makes sense given what she remembers of the system. But more importantly because “Wow. You are _super_ into Potter.”

Ducking his head, he grins bashfully. “I was one of those kids who didn’t really like reading until Harry Potter. It was pretty formative.”

“He wanted us to start a wizard rock band,” Reggie reveals.

“You tried to turn us into a country band!”

“Yes, between those two, country is definitely the embarrassing one,” Alex deadpans. “Now come on. I wanna ride the Mummy before the park closes.”

As Alex and Reggie run ahead, Luke shoves his hands in his pockets, kicking his feet awkwardly. “My mom… she and I don’t have a lot in common.” She can hear the pain in his words, even as he tries to keep it light. “This is the one thing we really bond over.”

He glances over, and she realizes that it’s a gesture he’s offering in return for what she revealed at the gate. She doesn’t know the story with his mom, but she knows that moms are a pain they share, and that Harry Potter is what they use when they want to reach out to their mothers. She smiles softly at the connection.

“Have you ever brought her here?”

There’s a long pause, with a lot behind it, and he shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“GUYS. Seriously, if we want to get to the Lower Lot before last rides, we have to motor,” Alex yells. With a last glance at one another, they run to catch up.

#### 11.00-18.36 | BUTTERBEER 2

After that, she knows that her small work crush, even if it’s probably 60% rooted in her loneliness, has grown into an actual real world crush. Because now they’ve hung out outside of work. Okay, sure, they’ve hung out outside of work _at_ work, but it doesn’t feel like being at work. It feels like hanging out somewhere cool for free. And it’s a choice—none of them ever head back into the park after work with Carrie or Nick. It feels like Luke has shifted from coworker to friend. Her very cute friend with a perfect smile. Her very cute friend with a perfect smile who definitely isn’t interested in her.

That’s her story and she’s sticking to it.

At least, until nosebleed day.

Julie and Flynn are walking into the park past Butterbeer 2 when she sees Luke on register. He catches sight of them, clocks that they’re wearing carts uniforms, and beams. “Tell Lessa to put you on Butterbeer 2!” he calls.

“You have the power to make those requests?” she asks, dubious.

He flashes a cocky grin in response. “Didn’t you hear? Employee of the Month. And I need my best witch by my side.”

Julie is focusing on arranging her face into a very normal, casual smile, so she doesn’t notice Flynn’s mischievous grin until it’s too late. Her friend leans over as they walk up High Street and sings quietly, “My girl has a crush and his name is Luke.”

“No, I don’t!” Julie exclaims, far too loud. Several guests jump, alarmed. Flynn raises an eyebrow, like this has proven her point, and honestly, why is she pretending? “Fine. I may have a slight work crush. But there’s no way he’s interested in me.”

“I’m sorry, did you just see that boy’s face? I think he was literally glowing.”

“That’s just what his smile looks like.” Flynn shoots her a look that reminds her eerily of the exasperated looks Alex gives Luke and Reggie when they’re being ridiculous. “And even if he did like me, it would be a bad idea. Co-workers?”

It would be one thing if they worked anywhere else in the park: there are thousands of employees and it would be easy to avoid him if things went south. But Potter employees are sealed off from the rest of Universal Studios in a way that makes them feel like a very large yet still somehow tight-knit family. There are people who shouldn’t work on shift together because they’ve had such bad fallouts, but they still _are_ put on shift together because leads don’t care if “he turned out to be a total fuckboy.” It’s a nightmare for everyone who has to work with them. Dating people from other Potter departments might work, but… not within food service.

Flynn shrugs, unconvinced. “I mean, a hookup might be iffy. But I don’t think he’s just interested in a hookup.”

But Julie doesn’t buy it. Luke’s this energetic, self-assured guy who seems to know exactly what his place is in the world. And as embarrassing as it would be to ever say “he’s too good at expo to want a girl like me” aloud, something about it feels deeply real. It’s possible she spends too much time at work, and she’s forgotten the logic on which the real world operates. But it still rings true deep in her gut, in the same way that hierarchies in high school felt so real when she was within those four walls.

Add to that the fact that he’s playing gigs every week and she can barely sing unless she’s humming along to the Frog Choir, and it’s the perfect storm for feeling like Luke’s too good for her. Like his easy confidence and competency put him in a totally different echelon of society.

Julie thinks Flynn’s dropped it, which is obviously a mistake, because when Lessa starts to give them their shift assignments, Flynn announces loudly, “Luke wants Julie.” She pauses with a devilish smirk before finishing her sentence. “On Butterbeer 2.”

Lessa is, as usual, unimpressed. “Luke does not make shift assignments. … But yes. Julie, Butterbeer 2.” Julie can’t tell if Lessa was already planning to put her on Butterbeer 2 or if Luke actually does have sway, and she suspects that Lessa wouldn’t want Luke to know either way. But she’ll take it.

It seems like it’s gonna be a good shift, because even though Luke isn’t interested in her, he’s great people, and working side-by-side with the guy she has a crush on isn’t actually a hardship.

But suddenly, as she’s in the middle of pouring a cup of cold Butterbeer, she feels an all-too-familiar dripping sensation from one of her nostrils. She freezes for a second, hoping it’ll go away. Nope, it’s definitely happening. She quickly sets the Butterbeer down in front of the topping machine for Luke to finish and ducks behind the cart.

There’s one small favor—at least she’s on Butterbeer 2. Butterbeer 1 doesn’t have a wall to hide behind or a sink on hand for her to clean her face. As she snatches a paper towel to hold to her nose, she’s grateful that she can at least hide back here out of sight and no one will ever see her and yep, that’s Luke poking his head around the corner.

“You okay?” he asks. Then he catches sight of the blood. “ _Are_ you okay?”

“I just get nosebleeds sometimes when there’s an intense dry heat. And… you know. It’s LA.”

He grabs another paper towel and whips the hat off his head. He’s wearing ice cubes under his hat, as some of the workers do when they work carts to help keep themselves cool. Tossing the ice cubes into the paper towel, he wraps them up and holds out the makeshift ice pack. “For the back of your neck. It helps slow the bleeding.” He rubs the back of his head awkwardly. “I, uh, used to bump into things a lot when I was a kid cause I ran around without looking where I was going, so. Nosebleed expert.”

She grins up at him. “Thanks. I’m sorry, this is so gross.”

“Nah, you’re still the cutest witch in Hogsmeade. Come back out when you’re feeling better.” And then he pops back around to his register like he didn’t say anything at all.

Okay, so she’s 40% sure that her crush is only because of loneliness.

And, like, 95% sure he’s not interested in her.

Okay, 90%.

#### 9.30-17.06 | BUTTERBEER 1 [HOLIDAY PAY]

Julie finally feels like she’s finding her footing on Memorial Day. She’s in the crowded carts office, crammed in between Flynn and Luke, and they’re watching everyone get their assignments. As all the other carts employees peel off for the day, she starts to clock who’s left.

Luke, Reggie, Alex, Flynn, and Willie.

The six of them stare at each another. “Butterbeer 1 dream team??” Reggie exclaims.

Lessa just raises an eyebrow. “If that’s what you want to call yourselves.”

By all rights, the shift should be horrible. It’s a holiday, so the park is almost at capacity and guests have the kind of entitlement that only comes from theme park guests on a holiday who are determined to have The Best Day of Their Lives™.

But… Butterbeer 1 dream team. 

Willie and Luke take register, Alex pours for Willie (and refuses to acknowledge everyone’s knowing grins), Julie pours for Luke, and Reggie and Flynn work line control. It turns into one of those shifts that, if you’re lucky, you get once per job when you work customer service. One of those shifts where everyone you’re working with is great people, and you all work together seamlessly. 

And because you’re surrounded by the greats, even when things go wrong, you can handle it. As always happens when the frozen Butterbeer machine gets used too many times in a row, the ice-blended drink it produces starts to run too thin. But Reggie and Flynn are gods of line control—they subtly push people into buying only cold Butterbeers while the machines reset. The cart starts to run low on the proper frozen Butterbeer straws with the scoop at the end, but Julie’s solution is simple: she hands everyone who is rude to Luke a regular straw, and everyone who is polite a proper straw. The first time a guest calls Luke a _very_ family-unfriendly word and gets handed a regular straw, Luke shoots her a grin and whispers, “My hero.”

It feels a bit silly to say she’s going to hold a memory of a shift in her heart, especially a chaotic holiday shift on a day that’s hot as Quaffles, where they’re working in the direct sun for so long that she gets a painful sunburn on the back of her neck.

But it’s a perfect shift, with her favorite magical people.

And afterwards, when they go to a bar on CityWalk to celebrate, Luke’s sitting next to her in the booth and grinning and she whispers, “That was surprisingly awesome” and he nudges her and whispers back, “You killed it.” And for the first time since she started, she feels confident enough to reply, “Yeah, I think I did.”

#### 12.00-19.36 | THREE BROOMS

It already feels like it’s been an endless bussing shift and yet Julie’s pretty sure that if she looks at her phone, it will tell her that she’s only been working for ten minutes. Her rag has run dry from washing down tables at breakneck speed, so she slips into the supply closet to get more cleaning solution.

She stops short when she sees Luke hunched on a stool packing forks into the small bins they set out for guests.

There are two types of bussers who go on supply closet restocking duty: people who either can’t or don’t want to walk around for an entire shift, and people who are trying to hide. Luke is definitely not in the first group—she’s never seen him in the closet before, and she can count on one hand the number of times she’s even seen him sitting down. So it must be the latter.

“You’re not okay,” she tells him gently, as she drops her rag in the bucket of used rags.

Clearly his whole mind was focused on shoving forks into the bin, because he jumps. “Uh, isn’t that supposed to be a question?”

She shakes her head. “You’re in here, so you’re not okay. If I ask and you don’t want to talk about it, then you have to lie. So I figured I’d make it easier for you. I tell you you’re not okay, and you don’t have to tell me why if you don’t want to.”

A tight smile pushes up the corners of his mouth. “Fight with my parents.” He glances at her, almost guilty. “It’s not the worst thing that can happen.”

“Being sad because of your parents isn’t a competitive sport,” she replies lightly.

His smile becomes a bit more genuine. It’s a clear invitation for her to approach, and as she does, she realizes he’s loading the forks in a truly incomprehensible way. Like, the bin looks like someone stuffed a hedgehog into it, and she’s pretty sure anyone trying to get a fork out of there is going to get stabbed. If a busser opens the door to the supply closet, she’ll need to look like she’s doing something anyways, so she pulls on a pair of gloves, gently pries the forks from his hands, and starts reloading the bin. He’s too in his head to notice.

“It’s nothing major. They’re just waiting for me to decide to, like, become an accountant or whatever. Rock band wasn’t really what they had in mind for me.”

“What about being a wizard?”

He cracks a smile. “Seriously think my mom prefers that. Kinda what caused the fight.” He nods to the door, as if pointing at the managers. “They asked me to be a shift lead.”

“That’s awesome!” She tries to sound enthusiastic, ignoring the sinking sensation in her stomach at the idea of not working with him directly anymore.

“Nah, I turned it down. It’s a bigger time commitment, less flexible, and I’d need to work more nights which we try to keep clear for gigs. Plus…” He laughs at himself. “Leads have to sit still and tell other people what to do. I’m not built for management. I want to do the job myself.”

It’s such a Luke answer, and it makes her feel all soft and warm inside. 

Crap. She’s not really lonely anymore, is she? Not with Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Flynn in her life. She actually just _likes_ this guy.

His hands are twitching without anything to do, so she passes him an empty ketchup bin to fill with packets. He starts on autopilot. Then she asks cautiously, “And your mom…?”

“Wants me to grow up and try to advance up the ladder here. She thinks if music was gonna work out, it would have by now, so I should be trying to get a real job.”

“… you’re 22.”

“Yeah. They’re not in the arts, so they don’t really get the timeline of things." He huffs bitterly. "What about your dad?”

“He _is_ in the arts, so he gets it. My mom was as well.” A flash of extra guilt hits her, because Luke is hustling to try to make it as a musician. She’s still trying to figure out how to be a witch, how to be in LA, how to be an adult. She hasn’t done anything properly creative in four months. All the support in the world, and she feels like she doesn’t deserve it. If only she could pass it on to Luke. “Sorry.”

“Don’t feel guilty about it. My thing isn’t even that bad. Some of my friends”—she gets a sense that that’s code for Reggie and Alex—“don’t even talk to their parents. I mostly get along with mine. They just don’t always get it, you know? I’m fine. I’m just sulking.”

He glances down at her bin of forks, where she’s neatly stacked the forks so the handles are facing out and easy to grab. “Your bin looks better than mine did.”

“Yeahhh, I don’t want to kick you while you’re down, but you’re not good at loading these.”

He laughs, and it’s a free, light peal of laughter. “I’m really only good on expo and Butterbeer. I’m assuming you spend more time in here than me?” He eyes her like he’s trying to figure out which group of supply closet workers she’s in.

Forcing a smile, she nods. “Some days seeing all the happy families out there is… a bit much.”

He smiles back sympathetically. Then, realizing that she doesn’t want to expand on what she said, nods at her fork bin. “Okay, so what am I doing wrong?”

“Well, you need to stack the forks, not just chuck them in. It’s a very complex procedure. I call it ‘logic.’”

He sticks his tongue out at her, then pulls a single fork out of the big box of fresh forks and carefully places it on top of one of her stacks. “Like that?” he asks.

“Yeah, but if you do it at that rate, the guests will be eating with their hands.” She sweeps up a fistful of fresh forks by their handles and jostles them in her hand until they slot together, letting gravity do most of the work. Then she slides the stack into the bin.

He blinks. “That was—” For a second, she could swear he’s going to say “hot,” but he abandons the sentence and starts another. “Are you the supply closet god?”

“The lowest god in the pantheon.”

They look at each other and shake their heads. At the same time, they murmur, “Greeter 2.”

He turns to face her more fully. “Okay, supply closet god: teach me your ways.”

With a triumphant grin, she pulls up a stool.

* * *

“Sorry, you were in the supply closet together for an entire eight-hour shift, and you didn’t make out even a little? I can’t even begin to express how much you disappoint me.”

Julie tries to hush Flynn as they leave the women’s changing room with their dirty uniforms in hand. “What can I say? Something about the bussers constantly coming in and the smell of surface cleaner killed the mood.”

“So you admit there was a mood to kill?” Flynn asks smugly.

She hisses back. “No! He’s not interest—”

“Jules!” Luke bounces in front of her. “I’m really sorry to interrupt—I’ve gotta run for a gig—but could I get your number?”

Julie’s mouth drops open.

“What?”

She can almost feel Flynn’s smugness, but she refuses to look at her as she takes Luke’s phone to add herself to his contacts.

“So we can exchange shift info.” Oh, that makes more sense. It’s a work thing. “Me and the guys, if we know we have overlapping shifts at the same place, we can sometimes get ourselves assigned to certain positions so we’re more likely to work together. Plus…” He rubs the back of his head bashfully. “On days you’re not working, I won’t spend the whole shift hoping you’ll turn up.”

He sends her a smile and, honestly, it should be illegal because he looks like a hopeful puppy and it makes her breath catch. He passes his phone to Flynn.

In the least flirty tone she can possibly manage under the circumstances, Julie replies, “And now you can let me know the next time you have a gig.” Oh, how she wishes Flynn weren’t right there listening to and judging everything she’s saying.

The beam on his face lifts her heart, and… okay, it was definitely worth embarrassing herself in front of Flynn to get that smile. “Really?”

“So I can tell you whether you’re better at playing guitar or stacking forks.”

Almost shy, he grins and takes his phone back from Flynn. “I’ll text you my schedule. See you!”

He bounces away, but when he reaches the escalators, he glances back and smiles again before the rotating stairs pull him from view.

She finally dares to make eye contact with Flynn.

“WOW. So platonic,” Flynn drawls sarcastically. “That whole time, I was thinking, ‘This is a classic example of how two people who aren’t interested in each other interact.’”

“I bet he’s not even going to text me. He’ll probably forget he even has my—”

Julie’s text tone chimes loudly, as if determined to side with Flynn.

“Was that him?”

Julie glances at her phone. “Unknown number.”

“So probably him then.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

Julie doesn’t allow herself to read his text until she’s in her car away from Flynn’s scrutiny.

**_hey, it’s your humble pupil. am available for fork stacking lessons at these times:  
[screenshot of week schedule]_ **

She notes a couple overlapping shifts and types a reply. She doesn’t want to brag, but she only panics about how exactly to phrase it for six minutes before she hits send.

**No 3B shifts together this week—guess I’ll just have to teach you how Butterbeer works. Did you know you can get it cold or frozen?  
[screenshot of schedule]**

He texts back almost instantly.

**_what’s the difference???_ **

And before she can reply:

**_did you hear we’re getting the hot butterbeer in september? get ready for “hot, cold or frozen”_ **

**What??? There’s no way I’m going to remember that. It’s “cold or frozen.”**

**_really? not “frozen or cold”? :P_ **

**Ugh, did I really say that?? That sounds so wrong now.**

He doesn’t reply immediately, so obviously she panics and sends:

**Break a leg tonight!**

**_thanks, we’ll need it. didn’t get enough time to practice this week because we all had different shifts_ **

**Are you guys on Youtube? I want to check out your stuff.**

**_we are but you can’t look us up_  
_if we suck, i wanna be there to see your face so you can’t lie_ **

**If you suck, I’ll tell you.**

**_but if you think we’re good, i wanna see your face too_ **

**I can livestream my reaction.**

**_nah, i wanna see it in person_ **

There’s a long pause, then he adds:

**_magic these days, videos can be faked_ **

She smiles to herself, and she’s so glad she’s alone in her car because the giggles and smiles she’s been doing have probably been really embarrassing.

**In-person it is.**

#### 9.30-16.06 | THREE BROOMS

She ends up on her first lunchtime expo shift by accident. One of the chefs comes out to do the significantly more chill breakfast expo line with her and when they switch over to the lunch menu, the chef encourages her to stay. “You’re doing great. Give it a try.”

So she expos for lunch.

It’s absolute chaos. And yet, just like Luke taught her, just as the chef reminds her, she tries to stay calm and not give in to the urge to rush. She pulls the tricks that Luke did with her—grabbing dressings when she sees that the chef needs them, checking the status of the drinks windows, occasionally glancing at pulse and registers to see how evenly distributed the foot traffic is. It’s busy, it’s fast-paced, it’s relentless, but she starts to feel confident. She sets the pace back here, and no one can rush her. It’s chaos, and she’s in control of it. Tickets fly by, trays get put together and passed off to the drinks window, and every time she sees tickets piling up, she just exhales deeply and reminds herself: _We’re in no rush. One at a time._

She’s so in the zone that she barely notices the chef leaving her alone when the lunch rush burns off. She only realizes how absorbed she was when Luke appears seemingly out of nowhere. She didn’t notice him clock in. She always notices.

“Fuck,” he groans as he leans against the expo fridge.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks.

“Working here has broken me.”

“How so?”

He grabs a cup and pours himself a pear cider, taking a long ass time of it. Then he glances over at her. “When I got here, you were killing it on expo and the first thought that came into my head was ‘damn, that’s hot.’ I’m worried that ‘cute girls slaying expo’ is gonna be a thing for me now and that’s just embarrassing for me.” He shakes his head and wanders away, like he didn’t just drop a truckload of flirty compliments on her.

#### 12.00-18.36 | BUTTERBEER 1

She gets him back a couple days later. She arrives at Butterbeer 1 to find Reggie on register and Luke pouring, and a line that stretches all the way back to Ollivanders.

She winces. “You want me on line control?”

“God yes. We’re drowning.”

Luke sets one cup on the counter under the cold Butterbeer tap and pulls the spigot, starting to flow Butterbeer into the cup. He grabs another cup and holds it under the frozen Butterbeer machine. He pulls the tap until the cup is full and then drops the full cup of frozen on the counter just in time to turn off the spigot for the now full cup of cold.

It’s perfectly timed, has a weirdly beautiful rhythm to it, and it’s honestly embarrassing how attractive she finds it.

“Working here has broken me,” she groans.

He puts a new cup under the cold tap and turns on the spigot. “How’s that?”

“Apparently ‘cute guys pouring both Butterbeers at once’ is gonna be a thing for me now and that’s just embarrassing for me.”

Even though she really doesn’t want to, she forces herself to look at him because SHE DOESN’T BELIEVE IN DRIVE-BY FLIRTING, LUKE. He’s staring at her, a surprised smile playing on his lips before he recovers. “I don’t know—two Butterbeers at a time? That sounds pretty hot. What are you going to do when we get the third type of Butterbeer?”

She shrugs. “It’s not my problem. You’re the one who’s going to have to figure out how to pour three Butterbeers at once. If you want to retain your hotness.” She nods at the cup on the counter. “Your cold’s overflowing.”

And with a confident skip in her step, she jumps ahead to the next guest in line. “Hi, did you want cold or frozen Butterbeer?”

#### 10.00-16.36 | FJ CART

“Julie, you’re on FJ.”

Luke and Reggie let out audible groans. Lessa clears her throat pointedly. “Is there a problem?”

The FJ cart is, objectively, the worst Potter food service assignment. It’s one of the solo drinks carts that only sells bottled drinks and beers, and only operates on high capacity days. But unlike the other two solo carts, which are in heavily trafficked areas, the FJ cart is tucked away by the extended queue for FJ. Not many people come to the cart, so working there is boring, and the food runners often forget to come out and restock the cart with more ice and drinks. At least at the other carts, other employees walk by semi-frequently, so if you’ve been abandoned for too long, you can beg someone to pester the runners for you.

The FJ cart is… basically banishment. It’s standing around watching the ice covering your drinks melt almost immediately under the LA summer sun, and then desperately trying to sell the five people who come to the cart some lukewarm drinks because you’re so desperate for human interaction.

“You can’t send Julie to FJ!” Luke sits up, indignant on her behalf. “FJ is for people who can’t handle the real carts.”

Unimpressed, Lessa asks, “And which one of you is volunteering to take her place?”

Reggie backs away, glancing apologetically at Julie. “I’m sorry, I can’t work carts by myself. I need someone to talk to.”

“I’ll take FJ,” Luke offers instantly.

This park has ruined her—a small part of her is swooning as if “I’ll take FJ for you” is a romantic gesture.

Lessa does not find it romantic. “I need you on Butterbeer 1.”

“Julie’s just as good as me on Butterbeer.”

It should come across as egotistical, because it’s a compliment based on knowing his own abilities, but Julie’s been learning over her months at the park that there’s no value here in false modesty. Know what positions you’re good at, and advocate for yourself, because it makes everyone’s shift better if you’re playing to your strengths.

And Luke thinking she’s just as good at him on Butterbeer 1… again, it shouldn’t be making her swoon, but it kinda definitely is.

And again, Lessa does not seem to care about any of that. “You said you didn’t want to be a lead. So you get put where I say you get put. Luke, Butterbeer 1. Julie, FJ.”

* * *

Julie’s been standing at the FJ cart for four and a half hours (not that she’s checking the time on her phone, cause she’s a good little witch and she’s never even heard of a smartphone, what is technology), and there’s been no sign of a runner. She can’t abandon her stocked cart, so she has no way of contacting Lessa, and no way of pointing out that the time for her ten has come and gone and the need for lunch and a bathroom break has gotten pressing. Her tongue’s completely dry—she ran through her two bottles of water hours ago—and she hasn’t sold anything in ages because, shockingly, guests don’t like to buy lukewarm drinks on hot days. (Shoutout to the guest who told her she should put more ice on the drinks: that was a super helpful suggestion.)

When Reggie and Alex appear, she almost cries in relief.

“Luke’s trapped at Butterbeer 1, but we offered to check on his girl.” Reggie hands her a bottle of water, which she opens frantically.

Alex nudges Reggie sharply in the ribs and clarifies. “Not a direct quote.”

“Still accurate,” Reggie mumbles petulantly.

Alex holds out a paper towel packed with ice. “Also, he said to bring this ‘just in case.’ No idea what that means.”

Julie takes it with what she’s sure is an embarrassingly soft smile. She hasn’t had a nosebleed, but the direct sunlight has been melting her and she gratefully places the ice pack on her neck to cool her body down.

Alex peers into the cart and winces at the lukewarm water that bathes all the drinks. “No runners?”

“For four and a half hours.”

“Shit. We’ll go bug Lessa.”

“Don’t waste your whole break on me.”

Alex shoots her a deeply unimpressed look. “Jules, we leave no witch behind. We’re getting Lessa.”

“OH, and…” Reggie pulls a granola bar from the pocket of his apron and chucks it at her. “Have some Muggle contraband.”

She’s a strong independent witch and she doesn’t need to be rescued on FJ… but damn if this isn’t the moment she realizes that she’s officially part of the Potter family.

* * *

As she drops her damp uniform down the laundry chute, she runs into Luke. He takes in her very sweaty face and winces. “I heard Lessa forgot you.”

“Apparently it wasn’t personal. She completely forgot they were using FJ today.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. It’s been a day.”

He grins ruefully, scratching the back of his head. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the park, but you look beat.”

The last thing she wants to do is turn down Luke when “we” just means the two of them, since Reggie’s working a nine-hour and Alex is on a different schedule entirely. She’s never hung out with Luke alone before, and she’s trying desperately to convince herself that she has the energy to walk all the way to the park entrance and brave the crowds, when he asks, “Wanna grab some food on CityWalk? My treat. I’ve got an employee discount.”

She shakes her head at him, fond. “We work for the same place, you goober.”

“Your discount doesn’t negate my discount. Plus, I can show you Sunset Curve.” Not needing to be coaxed, she starts walking with him. A giant smile breaks over his face, and she feels a bit of the shittiness of the day drain out of her at his joy. “We lost our rhythm guitarist last year, and I think this is an opportunity for us to re-vamp our sound. So if you have any thoughts, I’d love to hear them.”

They split a pizza on CityWalk and hunch close around his phone as he plays her some of their videos and demos. The whole time, he watches her reactions nervously, like her opinion of his music is really important to him. Mainly, she has two thoughts.

One, he’s really good. Which is a problem, because at least she knows that “good at pouring Butterbeer” is a ridiculous thing for her to find attractive, which keeps her from getting carried away by it. But “shreds on guitar and mic” has been attractive to her since she first started finding boys attractive and... fuck, she _really, really_ likes him.

Two, as she listens to them, she can hear how her voice and keyboard would fit in, and it makes her artist soul, the part of her that’s been lying dormant for months, feel like it’s lifting its sleepy head.

But you can’t just tell people that the sound missing from their band is you, so all she says for now is, “Have you considered slanting more pop-rock?”

He eyes her for a long moment, then gives her a soft smile. “Yeah. We’d want a fourth, though. Ideally keys, and more of a pop vocal sound than we naturally gravitate towards. Just looking for the right person.”

He’s looking right at her, but he doesn’t ask and she doesn’t offer. Not yet.

#### 15.00-22.36 | THREE BROOMS

Technically, Julie’s known this whole time that they’re on display most of the time they’re at work. That people are taking photos and videos and posting them online, often not even noticing the employees in the background whose faces are getting plastered all over the internet.

But she’s never really made the connection between “people take pictures of us” and “I have an anonymous public life online as a witch” until Flynn is scrolling through her phone during a lunch break and begins laughing loudly. She immediately passes her phone to Alex and Reggie, who dissolve into cackles.

“What?” Luke asks. Normally Julie would sit up to see what they’re looking at, but Luke’s got his arm draped around her chair and she doesn’t think he’s noticed. She’s not looking to call attention to it.

Reggie airdrops the link to Luke with a devious grin, and Luke holds his phone out so Julie can see the screen.

It’s a video tweet from someone’s recent trip to Hogsmeade, taken while standing in line at Butterbeer 2 with the Frog Choir singing in the background. Video Julie is on pouring and Luke’s on register, and they’re dancing in place singing the lyrics to “Do the Hippogriff” to each other, all while they continue working. She sets two Butterbeers on the serving barrel and, as the guests grabs their drinks, Luke takes her hand and quickly twirls her in time to the music. She lets out what looks like a giggle (oh thank god for the noise of the Frog Choir so no one can hear it in the video) and beams up into his face before saying what she assumes is “Now I have to wash my hands!” and him replying with something that she can’t hear but that looks like classically unrepentant Luke.

Julie glances up at Flynn, Alex, and Reggie, who are still laughing at Flynn’s phone.

“I don’t get it. What’s so funny?” It’s a weird moment to have memorialized, but it’s pretty normal for her and Luke on Butterbeer 2.

Flynn shoots her that look again, like Julie’s proving her point, but all her friend says is, “Read the thread.”

Julie glances at the tweet that accompanies the video. “look, normally I don’t ship people irl bc I think it’s creepy, but… get u a man who looks at u like Butterbeer Salesman #1 looks at Butterbeer Salesman #2”

She doesn’t even get time to react because Luke scrolls on to the next tweet. “omg someone dm’d me a pic of these two from the Three Broomsticks, I can’t handle this”

It’s a picture of what looks like them on a bussing shift. She’s carrying two armfuls of trays loaded with garbage, and he’s holding the flap of the trash can open for her, and they’re beaming at each other, their faces a bit too close considering they’re at work.

It’s embarrassing for two reasons: 1) They’re smiling so much that it looks like an employee recruitment photo where they’ve been told to look like they love their jobs. 2) It could be from literally any bussing shift they’ve done together because he always does that for her, she always jokes that he’s a gentleman, and he always bows after doing it.

Below is a third tweet: “aaaaand someone sent me this video—r they an actual thing??? #LoveAtHogsmeade”

Julie’s on greeter in front of the Three Brooms and dancing her hands along to the background music, as she tends to when she’s on a shift where her hands aren’t occupied. Luke, who looks like he’s leaving at the end of his shift, jumps next to her and starts dancing his hands right alongside hers, gazing at her with a soft smile.

Julie’s actually disappointed when that’s the end of the images: she never thought “why don’t more people film me when I’m interacting with the guy I like at work” would be an actual complaint she’d have. But then she reads the final tweet in the thread:

“In the last vid, you can read their name tags. soooo ship name??? Julie + Luke = Juke? #LoveAtHogsmeade #HogsmeadeJuke”

She glances at Luke, but he’s very deliberately not looking at her. He scrolls up to the top of the thread and likes every single tweet with a focused expression on his face.

“This thread’s too short,” Flynn complains.

“Ooh, should we add stuff? Because I’ve got a whole camera roll of Quality Content™,” Reggie grins.

Julie chooses to believe that he’s lying about having more photos of her and Luke. “You have your phone out at work and you don’t get caught?”

“Of course. I’m a wizard.”

Luke finally looks at her and raises a very casual eyebrow. “What do you think?”

She doesn’t really know how to address the premise of the thread, especially not in front of all their friends, so she focuses on the final tweet. “Juke’s too generic. Should be Jukebox.”

He beams and switches his phone to camera mode. “Then let’s give our Muggle fans some more Quality Content™.” She grins as he tucks his face in next to hers and they take a selfie. He tweets it as a reply with “We prefer Jukebox <3,” and tucks his phone away like nothing happened.

Later, when she’s on her ten by herself, she definitely doesn’t find the thread and like all the tweets from her own account. And she definitely doesn’t save the selfie of them. That would be absurd.

#### OFF THE CLOCK

She’s not sure what to expect from “ ** _having a party, you should show_** ” because it doesn’t give her A LOT TO WORK WITH, LUKE.

But when she and Flynn finally find parking on his street in North Hollywood, it’s easy enough to figure out which house is the band’s because there’s loud live music coming from it.

As they step inside and make their way through a mess of Potter and non-Potter people, she sees Luke, Alex, and Reggie in the middle of a very energetic performance of “Now or Never.” It’s the first time she’s seen them perform live, and they’re immediately captivating, especially Luke. It’s like when he’s buzzed from expo times a thousand. Like he’s personally fueled by (or maybe fueling?) a power plant, lit ablaze by how much he’s meant to do this.

She’s wondered a couple times, idly, how she would have reacted to him if she’d met him out in the real world instead of at Potter. If she’d gone to one of his gigs, would she have noticed him in the same way? Seeing him like this… yeah, she would have noticed. She definitely would have been too intimidated to approach him. But she would have noticed.

She tugs nervously on her crop top and Flynn smacks her hand gently. “Stop fussing. I worked hard on this.” She gestures proudly to Julie’s whole look, which Flynn was solely responsible for putting together.

As the guys finish playing, Luke’s eyes land on her and his smile is this giant, living thing.

She giggles in response. (Stop giggling!)

He holds up a finger at her, and turns to the guys, mumbling off mic. Alex rolls his eyes fondly, like he expects no less than whatever Luke has said, but he and Reggie look highly amused.

Without warning, the three guys scream loudly into their mics, making everyone in the room jump and pay attention.

Then Luke starts to yell. “ _Alright, Hogwarts! Are you ready for some real music?_ ” He meets her gaze with a grin, like he’s expecting her to get it, but she doesn’t know this song. “ _I said are you ready? ARE YOU READY?!_ ” She continues to shake her head, but he’s still grinning confidently. “ _I can't hear ya..._ ”

As soon as he and Reggie begin to play, a surprised laugh bursts through her lips. Because she’s heard this tune a thousand times on shift: “Do the Hippogriff.” It immediately becomes clear who in the room works at Potter and who doesn’t, because half the people are confused and the other half are either groaning or cheering.

Luke keeps talking, and she’s struck by the fact that there’s apparently an entire intro to this song that she doesn’t know and he has memorized, and it’s just so very Luke that she starts to laugh again. “ _Alright_.” He bounces in place as Alex begins drumming. “ _C'mon, I wanna see your hands in the air. We're gonna teach you a brand new dance tonight. So move your body._ ” Then he meets her gaze and nods up at the spare mic next to him. “ _You gotta help us, Hogwarts. Together we can do this thing!_ ”

Flynn gives her a shove, and Julie stumbles up to the mic as he finishes his speech. “ _Are you ready? ARE YOU READY?!_ ”

She can only stare at him, feeling lost, but he grins and starts singing to her.

_Runnin' like a hairy troll  
Learnin' to rock and roll  
Spinnin' 'round like a crazy elf  
Dancin' by himself_

She doesn’t know what happens in the recorded version, but she knows how the lines get split in the Frog Choir performance, so she starts on her half of the verse. At first her voice is shaky, but as she looks out at the familiar faces while singing this all-too-familiar song… look, she’s done lunchtime expo on a weekend. Performing’s less scary.

_Boogie down like a unicorn  
And no stoppin' till the break of dawn  
Put your hands up in the air  
Like an ogre, just don't care_

As the chorus starts, the whole band begins singing, as do several of the Potter people.

_Can you dance like a hippogriff?  
Na na na na na na na na na_

Luke jumps around, rocking out like this is an actual rock concert and, for a moment, even though everything about this situation is completely ridiculous, she can picture him filling stadiums.

_Flyin' off from a cliff  
Na na na na na na na na na  
Swoopin' down, to the ground  
Na na na na na na na na na_

He stops playing so he can spin her for the “wheel around’ line, just like he did in the video.

_Wheel around and around and around  
Na na na na na na na na na_

Reggie and Alex take the first half of the next verse, trading lines. Luke steps off to the side towards Julie, making it easier for the crowd to see Alex at the drums.

_Groove around like a scary ghost  
Spooking himself the most  
Shake your booty like a Boggart in pain_

Reggie shakes his butt as he sings the line. Julie laughs and collapses her face into Luke’s shoulder.

_Again and again and again_

Luke turns to Julie’s mic and sings the next line to her.

_Get it on like an angry specter_

She sings the next line, raising confused shoulders at Luke because seriously, what the fuck do some of these lines even mean?

_Who's definitely out to get ya_

He shrugs back, equally confused.

_Stamp your feet like a leprechaun_

Julie finishes the verse with a loud:

_Get it on, GET IT ON!_

He grins in her face as they both jump up and down. She pulls the mic out of the stand, holding the mic between them so they can keep singing the chorus with the rest of the band while moving around more.

_Can you dance like a hippogriff?  
Na na na na na na na na na  
Flyin' off from a cliff  
Na na na na na na na na na  
Swoopin' down, to the ground  
Na na na na na na na na na  
Wheel around and around and around  
Na na na na na na na na na  
Yeah, yeah, yeah!_

When they reach the bridge, Luke and Julie start singing to one another. And even though the lines are complete nonsensical, their proximity while they share the mic and the intensity with which his eyes are locked on hers actually makes her heart start to beat faster.

_Oh, come on!  
Ooh, you gotta move it!  
Like a groovy creature  
Creature of the night  
In a flight  
Ah, a creature of the night  
Well, do ya' feel alright?  
Do ya' feel alright?_

He shoots her a “wait a minute” finger, which is good because apparently there’s a guitar solo she didn’t know about that was cut from the a cappella version. As he whales on his guitar, she can’t help but be struck by how he’s somehow making this solo look cool. None of this should be cool. They should probably all be deeply ashamed of themselves. But he still looks _cool._

He nods to let her know that the chorus is coming back, and by this point, everyone in the room who works for Potter, even the people who hate them for doing this when they’re off the clock, is jumping around and screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs.

_Can you dance like a hippogriff?  
Na na na na na na na na na  
Flyin' off from a cliff  
Na na na na na na na na na  
Swoopin' down, to the ground  
Na na na na na na na na na  
Wheel around and around and around...  
C'mon! C'mon!  
Yeah, can you dance like a hippogriff?_

As the song ends and the crowd dissolves into a mix of cheers and sarcastic boos, he gestures to her and they all bow. As she straightens up and soaks in the applause, she feels a flicker in her heart and it strikes her that it’s the first time she’s performed since she moved here. And it’s the first time in maybe ever? that she didn’t spend the whole time second-guessing whether she was doing a good enough job. It feels a bit like she stumbled into her musician self by accident and… she likes her. The song is nonsense and this whole thing is nonsense, but maybe identifying herself as a singer isn’t as bullshit as it feels. Maybe she’s ready to finish licking her wounds and try again.

Luke is gazing curiously at her, and she doesn’t want to try to explain in the middle of a party that she’s having an existential revelation because of freaking “Do the Hippogriff,” so what she says instead is “I can’t believe you know the recording by heart.”

He beams and sweeps his sweaty hair back from his face. “I’m good at my job.”

Alex and Reggie pop away from their instruments and Reggie starts to hook his phone into their sound system. Alone for a second, or as alone as they can be in the middle of a crowded room, Luke takes her in. “So this is what you look like in the real world.”

He’s seen her before, but only ever pre- or post-shift, when she’s wearing her most comfortable clothes and her hair is in some stage of “I just can’t be fucked.” This is the first time he’s seen her dry and dressed up. She eyes him, trying to get a read on his reaction. “Not what you were expecting?”

“I mean, I know what you look like. But those uniforms don’t do you justice.” He gives her a shy, appreciative smile.

“I want to say ditto, but honestly you pull off the wizard look.” She lets her gaze drift to his arms. “Is the sleeveless thing, like, an act of rebellion against the uniform?” She tugs on the arm hole of his shirt and his soft smile dissolves into a wicked grin.

“Out in the wild, I don’t do shirts with sleeves. Jackets or sleeveless. No in-between.”

She’s about to reply, make some comment about his shirts that will probably be a really embarrassing attempt at flirting, but then they both clock the song that Reggie’s playing through the speakers.

Luke holds a hand out to her. “Come on. You gotta dance to ‘Whoomp.’”

She takes his hand and lets him drag her into the middle of the mosh pit, a spark of hope in her stomach.

* * *

But by the time she and Flynn are leaving at the end of the night, that feeling of hope has been replaced with disappointment. It’s not like she thought she and Luke were just going to go off in a corner somewhere and make out all night. (Okay, she was, like, 70% sure they wouldn’t do that). But… Luke stuck by her side for the whole party and things got pretty flirty at points, but nothing happened and that feels like a sign. Like if something was going to happen, it would have happened now, when they aren’t on shift.

Flynn seems to have had a different interpretation of the night. As they make their way out to the street, she groans, completely exasperated. “Remind me again why you’re not dating?”

“Because he’s not interested!” Flynn scoffs loudly, but Julie won’t be derailed this time. “Yeah, he’s flirty and we flirt, but if he was interested in an actual relationship, he would have made a move. He’s _Luke_. He’s not exactly shy.”

She glances back and catches him hovering in the doorway of his house, watching to make sure they get to their car okay. He gives her a small nervous smile and, despite her disappointment with how the night went, she can’t help but smile back. When she tears her gaze from him, it’s to see Flynn looking deeply unimpressed.

“What?” Julie asks.

“I think he thinks he’s being super obvious and that if you were interested you would make a move.”

“You think or you asked Alex?” Because those are two very different things.

But Flynn holds sacred the bonds of confidentiality between friends. Or maybe she’s just fed up. “No comment.”

As they slip into the car, Julie glances back at him one more time and waves. He waves back and doesn’t go back inside until they pull away from the curb.

#### 10.00-17.36 | THREE BROOMS

She’s been stuck on pulse for three and a half hours and her feet are absolutely raging, so she’s not really expecting to experience happiness anytime in the near future when the line moves up and she realizes that the next guest is Luke.

“You’re wearing clothes!” she blurts out, only to realize that the pair of middle-aged white people hovering behind him are probably his parents, and she just made it sound like she usually sees him naked. “… Muggle clothes, that is.”

Definitely don’t look at his arms. Whatever you do. Do not ogle him in front of his parents.

He puts a finger to his lips. “I’m an Unspeakable on a secret mission,” he stage-whispers, because he is a major dork. Then he raises his voice to a normal level. “How’d you get stuck here?”

She grins proudly. “I put myself here.”

“Do you not listen to anything I say?”

“Usually no.” He nudges her shoulder playfully. “But in this case, I had a heroic purpose. Harrison was gonna put me on register and Alex on pulse, so I begged him to swap with me because I’m just so terrified of register.” She rubs her hands together like she’s unfolding a cunning scheme. Luke’s mouth drops open and he leans in close so he can peer around her to see the registers. There’s Alex on register 2, laughing with Willie at register 3.

“You’re devious.” In spite of his playful tone, there’s deep gratitude in his voice—she knows how important Alex’s happiness is to him. “But, you’re not doing too good a job here, right? Cause I’m not looking to lose you to pulse.”

“I promise, I’m being very mediocre.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but his mother clears her throat, watching them with an amused smile. Luke jumps, like he forgot his parents were there, and then gestures at them.

“My parents,” he explains unnecessarily.

“I’m Emily. This is my husband, Mitch. You must be Julie,” his mother says warmly.

Okay, this time Julie _knows_ they’re not reading her nametag, because she left hers at home and had to borrow a random one from wardrobe, so she’s “Amy” today. Luke turns bright red.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Julie smiles.

Luke nudges her again. “I was hoping you were bussing today so we could lure you to our table under false pretenses.”

“No such luck.” But she smiles at the thought that he wants her to get to know his parents. Although his parents currently seem to be entertaining themselves by just watching Luke talk to her, and she starts to wonder if they came here primarily to see him interact with her. 

“Oh, are you going to the work night out thing on the 3rd?” he asks.

“I don’t think so. Lessa asked if they could schedule me that night. You?”

“We were thinking of doing an open mic. I was gonna reschedule if—but if you’re not going to the work night, then I’m not missing anything.”

He trails off nervously. All at once she remembers what he said more than two months ago at the gift shop. He’s not actually brave, because he’s not usually scared of things. Hovering there in the line, looking timidly down at her with his lip caught in his teeth, practically blushing, she wonders if this is how he acts when he _is_ scared of something.

If she weren’t on shift and if his parents weren’t right there, she thinks she might kiss him. A soft smile spreads across her face, and an echoing one spreads across his.

Before she can do something silly, like kiss him anyways, she realizes that it’s time for the line to move forward. “Register 2.”

Luke replaces the soft smile with his shit-eating grin. “But register 7 is free,” he suggests innocently.

“Register 2, or I _crucio_ you.”

“I know you’re not allowed to carry a wand at work.”

“Wandless magic. I’m very advanced.” She turns back to his parents. “It was nice meeting you. Have a magical day in the park.”

As his parents head towards Alex, Luke turns back to her and mouths “ _magical day?_ ” She waves her pointer finger at him and mouths “ _crucio_ ” right back.

#### 11.00-22.36 | THREE BROOMS [HOLIDAY PAY]

It turns out that missing the work night out is both the best and worst thing they could have done, because everyone who goes gets food poisoning, including Willie and Flynn.

On the one hand, Julie is super glad that she doesn’t have food poisoning.

On the other hand, the few healthy people who make it in for the next day who have any idea what they’re doing are all begged to work a double. And not just any double. A double on July 4th.

“I’m not going to lie to you, folks. This is gonna be a rough one,” Harrison tells the assembled group of Three Brooms workers as the kitchen resets from breakfast for lunch. “We’re understaffed, and the park’s at 52k today.”

“Shit,” Julie whispers. That’s over capacity.

“I need you all at your best, on your best positions, and even if everything goes perfectly, today is probably still going to really suck.”

“This speech is not her best,” Alex whispers to them. Julie giggles.

“But we’re gonna get through this,” Harrison continues. “Do you know why? Three words.” Julie is expecting a corporate slogan, so she’s extra delighted when the answer is “Holiday. Overtime. Pay.”

The assembled workers cheer loudly and Harrison grins. “Okay! Reggie, pulse. Alex, control.” The guys high-five. Harrison continues down the roster, Julie waiting eagerly to hear where she’s going to be put. The supply closet? Greeter 2? She’s really not prepared to hear, “Julie and Luke, expo 2.”

Luke grins and claps her on the back. “Knew it.”

“ _Expo?_ ” She stares at him, shocked.

“We need our gods out there.”

She wants to argue that she’s not an expo god, but Alex and Reggie sweep her and Luke into a hug.

“Pump up circle.” Reggie looks around at all of them intensely. “We can do this.” He sticks his hand out in the center of the circle.

“Because we literally don’t have another choice,” Alex adds, putting his hand on top of Reggie’s.

“We _will_ survive this shift.”

“Or we won’t,” Alex quips right back. “Those are the two options.”

Reggie groans. “Luke, lay an inspirational Dumbledore quote on us.”

Luke thinks for a long moment, and she can see the wheels churning past the obvious answers before something clicks for him. “Okay, I got it. The most inspirational Dumbledore quote of all time.” He slaps his hand on top of Alex’s and leans in with a grin, building the suspense. “‘Do you want your Butterbeer cold or motherfucking frozen?’”

“‘He asked calmly,’” Julie adds, and sets her hand on top of Luke’s. Luke grins at her, with a soft look that dips towards her lips. If this wasn’t the absolute worst time, she thinks he might kiss her for making the most pathetic reference ever.

She should probably make a move soon, before they end up having a super embarrassing first kiss story.

Reggie sighs. “Okay. Apparently it’s ‘cold or frozen,’ on three.” His voice draws her back to the center of the circle. “1, 2, 3!”

“Cold or frozen!” they yell, and throw their hands up in the air.

She feels a momentary stab of embarrassment, like someone who doesn’t work here is going to see them and think they’re ridiculous.

But honestly?

All her favorite people know what “cold or frozen” means.

It means nothing and it means everything.

And today, that’s all they have to keep themselves going.

* * *

In Julie’s mind, they strut to their positions in the Three Brooms in slow motion while thematic pump-up music plays in the background. Maybe “Busy Earnin’” or “Working for the Weekend.” The front doors open, and the guests rush in in an orderly line, and she and Luke look at one another and nod, and then a triumphant montage plays where Reggie, Alex, Luke, and Julie all kill it on their respective positions and thousands of amazed guests flow seamlessly through the restaurant.

The reality… is not that.

They run to their positions, and they don’t stop running for twelve hours.

Julie has no idea what the guests think, because she’s not interacting with guests. She doesn’t know what’s happening with Alex or Reggie, because she only has the capacity to process what’s happening in servery. The only thing that exists for her is the expo line, the kitchen, the drinks windows, and Luke.

The image that sticks with her the most is that she has to put a food tray behind the ticket dispenser, because the tickets are churning out so quickly and relentlessly that they’re genuinely trying to migrate through the expo window into the kitchen.

It is, without a doubt, the most chaotic, stressful thing that’s ever happened around her. The panic of rush hour traffic on the 405, but flying at the speed of light.

But in the middle of it all, she feels… not calm, because nothing about this is calm. She’s pretty sure even Luke doesn’t feel calm. But this is her fucking kingdom, and in her kingdom, she’s the god.

(She’s mixing metaphors. Luke’s a bad influence.)

She pulls dressings and sauces from the fridge on her side of the expo window, without needing to look to know she’s got the right thing. She and Luke are perfectly in sync—without ever needing to exchange a word, she gives him sauces, and he gives her salads and desserts. When she’s got too much to do on her side, he makes bundles of watercress garnish for her and slips them onto the right plates. As the kitchen starts to run short on trays, they carefully Tetris extra plates onto trays, passing the overloaded monstrosities to the drinks windows like they’re trophies. And every time she looks at that overwhelming stack of tickets, she just smiles. She doesn’t even have to remind herself to do them one at a time. She knows it in her bones.

She has no idea what time it is. Technically, she thinks she takes breaks, but they pass in a blur of groaning feet, backs, and knees, and honestly, she’s not convinced that anyone really takes their full lunch. If you sit down in the middle of the battle, you may never get back up. 

When the chef across from her calls through the window, “Okay, shutting down the kitchen for the night!” it’s like someone has tossed cold water on her.

They’re closing?

They’re closing??

She spins around, but there are still people eating in the restaurant.

Right, of course. The kitchen’s closing. The park hasn’t vanished. She looks to pulse and control to see how Alex and Reggie are doing, but there’s no one working at those positions anymore because there are too few guests to need them. She glances over at Luke, who’s grinning at her. “Harrison let them go early. They said goodbye, but… you were in the zone.”

“We survived?” she whispers.

He leans against the counter next to her. “We killed.”

“Cold or frozen.”

“Frozen or cold.”

She shudders at the wrongness of the phrase. “You can’t keep holding that against me—I was young and naïve then.”

“It was three months ago.”

“Basically a lifetime.” Exhaling loudly, she reaches for his hand. “Come on, we gotta help close.”

“Ugggh, haven’t we done enough?” he grumbles. But he takes her hand and lets her lead him away from the expo line.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, the park is closed and they’re finally leaving for the night. She doesn’t know if she’s ever felt elation this pure before, and she’s skipping and dancing in front of the gates of Hogwarts, still brimming with energy in spite of the fact that her feet feel like they’ve been repeatedly punched down to the bone. Luke’s watching her with a soft grin, holding a frozen Butterbeer in one hand.

She tries to calm down, but she can’t. All their coworkers have already stumbled ahead, eager to get out of the park as quickly as possible. But she feels totally wired. She twirls around to face him. “It’s embarrassing how hyped I am right now. Like, I’m so exhausted that I could fall asleep standing up but also I could fight the entire world.”

“Because you’re an expo god,” he grins.

“I’m a fucking expo god.” She does a victory dance, like she’s trying to make sure the whole castle sees her. For a minute, as she lets the flush of success take over her body, all the insecurities that have weighed on her for the past five months feel… not gone, but insignificant. Tomorrow, they’ll probably be back, hopefully a little lighter, but right now, she doesn’t feel like the tiny, unsure girl from upstate New York. She feels like a damn god.

“How do you wanna celebrate?” he asks, and she doesn’t even hesitate before she grabs his face and kisses him, knocking his hat off his head. He immediately wraps his arms around her and kisses her back, eager and sweet and soft. Somehow the fact that she can feel the cold of his Butterbeer seeping through the back of her shirt just makes it perfect.

Also, she’s pretty sure fourteen-year-old Julie would be loudly cheering her for having her first kiss with this guy in front of Hogwarts.

He pulls back and starts to laugh.

She chuckles nervously and retrieves his hat from the ground. “Oh no, that’s not a good reaction.” 

Tucking the hat in his back pocket, he leans his forehead against hers and rubs her nose affectionately with his, leaving a trail of sparks across her face. “Sorry, I’m laughing at myself.”

“Why?”

“Because my first thought was… okay, my first-first thought was ‘oh, thank god, finally.’ My second-first thought…” He scrunches up his face, like he can delete it from history if he’s just ashamed about it enough. “‘I never got my Hogwarts letter but I got the girl.’”

Julie immediately starts cackling. “Oh no, that’s so embarrassing for you!”

“That’s why I was laughing!”

Blushing wildly, he looks completely flustered and helpless. Like he’s afraid she’s going to change her mind about him because he’s such a mess. She grabs his vest and tugs him to her, kissing him as deeply as she feels comfortable doing on company property while she’s still in uniform.

When she pulls away, she grins at the dazed look on his face. “You’re such a Disaster Hufflepuff.”

He kisses her nose. “Sure, but I’m your Disaster Hufflepuff.” She beams in spite of herself and slips her hand into his.

As they start to walk past the castle and toward the employee entrance, he says casually, “It could have been worse. Alex and Reggie have been texting me non-stop Potter-themed pick-up lines to use on you.”

Julie laughs and ducks under his arm, keeping hold of his hand. “I could have been into that.”

“Nah, they’re super filthy. Turns out that 99% of Potter pick-up lines are NC-17.”

“Again, I could have been into that.”

He gasps and puts a horrified hand to his chest. “Julie Molina, we work in a family-friendly theme park.”

“You realize you could have hit on me outside of work.”

He tugs her close. “But how would you recognize me without my hat?”

Right before they exit the park, she pauses to look up at him, hatless and grinning at her.

“Eh, I’ll get used to it.” And she tugs him through the gate.

LA still seems a bit overwhelming at times. But honestly? She’s a witch and an expo god. She can handle LA.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my old USH Potter fam <3  
> (Except you, Mario. Fuck you--I was the better expo in the end.)
> 
> Luke's POV [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27582007)!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as [pearlcaddy](https://pearlcaddy.tumblr.com)!
> 
> References:  
> • "[I'm afraid of sheets with holes in them](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0Z5_wipT2o)"  
> • [Sorting Hat Chats](https://ejadelomax.itch.io/sortinghatchats) (I'm Ravenclaw Primary, Ravenclaw Secondary because I am a cartoon of myself)  
> • "Do the Hippogriff" by The Weird Sisters (Frog Choir version [here](https://youtu.be/gnNKzcaiILU?t=586))  
> • "Whoomp! (There It Is)" by Tag Team  
> • "Busy Earnin’" by Jungle (as a nod to the iconic Black Friday episode of _Superstore_. Actually, I don't know if that episode is iconic, but it _should_ be.)  
> • "Working for the Weekend" by Loverboy  
> • I only made, like, three _Superstore_ references and I don’t know if I’m proud or disappointed at my restraint.


End file.
